nightmare
by teddylupin-snape
Summary: Regulus leaves a note and a broken heart in his wake. / Barty!centric, post-BartyReg


Regulus left. He bloody well left with nothing but a note. He only brought his wand with him, nothing else of his was gone. But he was.

You know there's no coming back from a place like Death, and you have to come to terms with the fact that you'll never see those grey eyes again.

 _Fuck Regulus_.

There's no point in waiting for a body. There's no point in anything anymore, really. But Regulus made a sacrifice for you, or so he claimed. You can't justify letting that go to waste. You owe it to him to do what you can to honor what he did, even if you're pissed at him for it.

You go out to the back garden of your small, country house – the one you used to share with Regulus. You're still stuck in your own head, your movements are all subconscious. You rummage within the small shed out back for a shovel. Without thinking, you dig. You strike the earth with a fury and an emptiness within you. You keep going, until you can feel again. Until the blisters forming on your hands ache and your back sears with pain and throat is dry.

You aren't dressed properly for a funeral. Your mother would have a heart attack if she saw you now. But Regulus wouldn't care, he'd probably laugh at you for making a fuss. Your dark red robes are mud-stained now, though, making them almost black. You can hear Reg's voice in your head now, "Barty, you idiot." You hear his laugh as clear as day. It's innocent, a sound from a decade ago. From back before this world had ruined them so thoroughly. "You know there's no rest for the wicked. Don't waste your time on me, love."

You fall to your knees, dropping the shovel at your side. The hole you've dug isn't done yet. You claw at the soil, ripping it from its place and scooping it away. Dry sobs course through your body. You carry on, widening the grave, disrupting the earth – this earth that should be fertile, that should grow things. You feel like you're playing God, almost. Repurposing it to house death.

"The future is a nightmare, Reg, without you." Your voice is gravely, low, _pained_. It breaks. "I don't know how to go on. You didn't give me the chance to say goodbye. I hope your damned act of Gryffindor heroism pays off. I hope you didn't leave me alone for nothing."

You pull a crumpled piece of parchment from your pocket. You were tempted to throw the note in the fire when you read it this morning. But no matter how _immensely stupid_ Regulus was, you didn't want to lose your last piece of him that permanently. You took one last look at the short letter.

 _Barty,_

 _I'm so sorry. I know the Dark Lord's secret now, or one of them, at least. He can't keep gaining power like this, recruiting idiots like us. If this is all I can do to put an end to this, so be it._

 _I wish it didn't have to be the end of us. I wish I could have been more for you, Barty. But this is bigger than both of us, and I need to do something right for a change._

 _Love,_

 _Regulus_

The ink is smudged and spotted from tears, both yours and his. You drop the parchment into the hole you've crafted, pushing yourself back to your feet. "You know I'd do anything for you. Even if that means going on without you."

You dump shovelful after shovelful of earth into the hole, putting more space between you and Regulus, if only symbolically. A drop of water slides down your cheek and you're so far removed from your own body right now, you can't tell if it's rain or tears. Even when the hole is filled once more, you can't bring yourself to leave it. You can't leave him.

 **A/N: For Amber, my muse. Written for Assignment 2 – Geography 3: Write about a dramatic burial; Writing Club – Book Club – Offred: (dialogue) "The future is a nightmare," (color) red, (word) fertile; Showtime 14: (dialogue) "I'd do anything for you"; Amber's Attic G3: Write about someone covering something up; Em's Emporium 3: Write a Marauder era fic; Bex's Bazaar O3: Write about someone fearing being left alone; Seasonal - Shay's Musical Challenge 40: Write about doing something dangerous to achieve your goal; Dragons and Writing Month: wc 665**


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